


Home for the Holidays

by BabyBeBop



Category: Looking (TV)
Genre: Chihuahuas, Christmas, Drinking, Explicit Sex, Food, Homophobia, M/M, Post Movie, families, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8522983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyBeBop/pseuds/BabyBeBop
Summary: Patrick and Richie spend the Christmas holiday visiting each other's families.





	1. Colorado

Patrick pulled into the driveway, snow crunching underneath the wheels. He parked, then took the key out of the ignition. “Remind me again why we decided to do this,” he sighed, leaning back in his seat.  
  
Richie rubbed his arm comfortingly. “Because your Mom invited us,” he smiled. “And it’s Christmas, so we kind of have to.”  
  
“I know,” Patrick groaned. “It’s just that I’m not exactly sure what we’re in for – it depends on how many egg nogs she’s had.” He glanced into the backseat. “She definitely won’t be happy that we brought the dog.”  
  
Chiquita Donado-Murray was curled up, sleeping, in a dog carrier on the backseat.  
  
“You nervous about me meeting your Mom?” Richie asked. Their disastrous first attempt, the day of Megan’s wedding, was long behind them, but it was still a reasonable question.  
  
Patrick shrugged. “No, not really. I’ve met her boyfriend, she should be able to meet mine.”  
  
Richie unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled his coat tighter around him. “It’ll go by fast. One night and then we’ll be on our way to San Francisco.”  
  
Patrick smiled and climbed out of the car. “God, I can’t wait. It’s been so long since we’ve seen everyone.”  
  
Richie opened the passenger door on his side and took out the dog carrier. Patrick grasped his arm while they slowly walked up the icey pathway to the door. “Careful, it’s slippery right here.”  
  
“It’s alright, Pato,” Richie grinned at him. “I can’t believe I’m finally getting to see where you grew up.”  
  
“Yeah,” Patrick exhaled, his breath freezing in the air. He could see movement in the windows, a silhouette of his mother rushing to the door. “This is it.”  
  
***  
  
Dana stepped out onto the porch to greet them, clad in a crisp white blouse and grey slacks. She hugged Patrick and kissed his cheek, leaving a red lipstick print behind. “Oh honey, it’s so good to have you home.”  
  
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” Patrick said when she finally released him.  
  
Dana paused, her eyes finally landing on Richie. She smiled brightly. “You must be Richie,” she said, taking his hand.  
  
Patrick’s palms were sweating underneath his gloves and he realized that maybe he _was_ a little nervous about how this would go. Not in the way that he once would have been, but it was still there, thrumming low under the surface.  
  
Richie returned Dana’s handshake and grinned politely. Patrick could tell that he was tense too and he found it oddly comforting. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Murray.”  
  
She scoffed. “Please, call me Dana…” her gaze dropped lower, to the pet carrier in Richie’s hand. “What is _that_?”  
  
“It’s our dog. Her name’s Chiquita,” Patrick announced, bracing himself for her reaction. He glanced at Richie for support.  
  
Dana shook her head and sighed, resigning herself to the situation. “Well, at least it’s not a Rottweiler.” She ushered them inside. “I hope she’s at least house broken.”  
  
“Yeah, of course. Completely trained,” Patrick reassured her, shooting Richie a knowing look. He gripped his hand as they walked into the house.  
  
****  
  
They shed their coats, hats, and gloves, hanging them by the door. Patrick unzipped the pet carrier and the dog climbed out, walking around the foyer and sniffing everything.  
  
“I was just having a Hot Toddy. I can get some mugs for you two,” Dana offered.  
  
“Sure, Mom. That would be great.”  
  
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Richie nodded. He looked around, taking in their surroundings, his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.  
  
“Please, sit down, make yourselves comfortable.” Dana gestured toward the living room, where the fireplace was turned on and the Christmas tree was glistening with tinsel. It looked very inviting, especially after the long trip.  
  
She wandered off down the hall, disappearing into the kitchen. Patrick finally turned to Richie and exhaled. “So, that’s my mom,” he grinned.  
  
“She seems cool,” Richie assured him.  
  
Patrick laughed. “No, she’s really not. She’s kind of a mess. Just be glad Megan went to Cabo this year and Dad’s in Hawaii with his girlfriend, or we’d be dealing with them too.”  
  
They were still standing in the foyer, beside the coat rack. There was a staircase in front of them that led up to the bedrooms and an arched entryway to the left that opened into a formal dining room. It all felt very familiar to Patrick, eerily so, like the house was frozen in time. He half expected his Dad and Megan to suddenly walk into the room.  
  
Richie glanced over to the living room, off to their right. “So, this is the house you lived in when you were a kid,” he said.  
  
“Yeah, until I left for college.” Patrick tried to lead him over to the couch, but he lingered behind.  
  
“Uh, I think I should probably take my shoes off,” Richie explained, looking downward.  
  
“Why?” Patrick didn’t understand why he felt the need to do that. He had left his own tennis shoes on.  
  
Richie shrugged, gesturing at the floor. “Your Mom’s got really nice carpets. I don’t want to get dirt everywhere.”  
  
“Oh.” Patrick realized with a sinking feeling that Richie might not be entirely comfortable. He watched him bend down and untie his shoelaces, wishing he could make him feel more at home. “Hey,” he said, after Richie had taken off his shoes. “Come in here with me…”  
  
Richie finally followed him into the living room, over to the large, leather sectional across from the fireplace.  
  
They sat down and Patrick put a reassuring hand on Richie’s knee. “See that armchair over there?” he said, pointing across the room.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Well, the night of Megan’s graduation, she came home from the after-party completely shitfaced and projectile vomited all over the floor over there.” Patrick chuckled, “She tried to convince everyone she’d eaten some bad shrimp, but no one believed it.”  
  
“So your Mom put a chair over it?”  
  
“Yeah, there’s a big stain.” Patrick laughed darkly, “It’s kind of a metaphor for our family, actually. Everything looks good on the surface, but underneath, it’s a whole different story.”  
  
“Everyone’s family is fucked up, Pato.”  
  
“I know, and I’m not saying we’re better or worse than anyone.” Patrick sighed. “I just don’t want you to feel weird about being here.”  
  
Richie smiled at him. “I’m ok. You don’t need to worry about me.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Patrick rubbed his knee.  
  
Richie covered his hand with his own. “Yeah. It’s just one night, remember? We’ll get through it.”  
  
Dana breezed back into the room a minute later, carrying a tray full of drinks. Chiquita trailed after her, yipping at her feet.  
  
“I think she likes you,” Patrick giggled.  
  
Dana gave the dog a withering look. She pushed a few magazines aside on the coffee table and set down the tray. “I apologize for the mess,” she said, gesturing at some imaginary clutter. “I gave Rosa the holidays off and this place has been in shambles ever since.”  
  
Patrick winced. “Her housekeeper,” he offered tersely.  
  
“Oh,” Richie nodded, picking up one of the steaming mugs and taking a sip.  
  
Patrick took a drink as well, silently wishing for something much stronger.  
  
“So, Richie,” Dana said, collapsing into an armchair. She took a good look at him, scrutinizing him harder than she had on the porch. “Patrick told me that you’ve gone into business for yourself. How is that going for you?”  
  
Patrick gave her a warning look, which she completely ignored. He wasn’t surprised that she would immediately start on that topic.  
  
“It’s great,” Richie responded, ignoring her slightly skeptical tone. “I’ve built up a really good customer base since we got to Dallas. I’m meeting a lot of interesting new people and it’s going really well.”  
  
Dana’s expression was quizzical. “And you just…park your truck on the street? And people get in?”  
  
“Yeah, that’s how it works.”  
  
Patrick watched the interaction between them, a knot of tension in his belly. He was ready to step in if Richie needed him, but he seemed to be holding his own.  
  
“Hmm,” Dana muttered and took a sip from her glass. She thought it over for a minute and then reached up and patted her own carefully styled coif. “I’ve been wanting to try a shorter look. Do you think I could pull it off?”  
  
“Oh, absolutely,” Richie assured her. “You have the right face shape, good bone structure…I think it would look great on you.”  
  
“Your hair looks fine, Mom,” Patrick interjected.  
  
Dana rolled her eyes at him and turned back to Richie. “I’m glad _someone_ agrees with me. My stylist has talked me out of it so many times. If he won’t do it I might have to visit your…” she paused, as if the words were distasteful, “barber truck.”  
  
“Any time,” Richie grinned. “I might even give you a discount, since you’re Patrick’s mom.”  
  
“Well, I should hope so.”  
  
***  
  
Dana suggested they all go out to dinner, to an Italian place that Patrick had always liked. The waiter delivered heaping plates of pasta to their table and they opened a bottle of wine, filling their glasses.  
  
“Can you…” Patrick started. He didn’t even need to finish before Richie read his mind, passing the basket of breadsticks. He smiled at him, shaking his head in amusement.  
  
Dana took a sip of her wine, looking across the table at Richie. “I heard that you have a big family. Are you close with them?”  
  
“Yeah, uh,” Richie paused, glancing over at Patrick. He wasn’t going to get into the estrangement with his Dad. It was too heavy and complicated to bring up. “I am. I talk to my Mom all the time, and my sisters.”  
  
“One of Richie’s sisters lives near us,” Patrick explained.  
  
“Yeah, Carmen really helped us out when we first got to town and needed a place to stay,” Richie said. “She even recommended me to all her friends so I could start cutting their hair and getting the word out.”  
  
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Dana smiled fondly. She turned her gaze to Patrick. “I wish you and Megan would settle your differences and be friendly again.”  
  
“ _Mom…_ ” Patrick grimaced around a mouthful of spaghetti. They had been over this before. The best he could manage with Megan these days was forced politeness, and sometimes he wasn’t even successful at that.  
  
“I was just making a suggestion,” Dana said defensively, picking up a bite of pasta with her fork. “I hope you at least sent her a Christmas card.”  
  
“We did, actually.” Patrick shot Richie a little smile, remembering the card they had sent out to friends and some family members. The photo they had chosen was from their road trip. They had posed at the Grand Canyon, with huge smiles on their faces and their arms around each other.  
  
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Dana replied. “I thought it was a very good picture of the two of you.”  
  
“Aw, thanks Mom.” Patrick beamed.  
  
“I put it on the refrigerator,” she admitted nonchalantly, taking a sip from her glass of wine.  
  
Patrick’s eyebrows rose. He tried to contain his surprise, and enjoyment, of that fact. It was such a small thing, but it made him really happy to know that his Mom had put their card on her fridge, next to the latest cards and photos from Megan and Gus.  
  
“Patrick googled everything about the history of the Grand Canyon before we got there,” Richie ribbed him.  
  
“Is he still doing that?” Dana shook her head in amazement. “He was the same way when we took him to Disneyland when he was ten. So much trivia and random facts…it was all we heard, the whole way there.”  
  
“I like to educate myself when I go on a trip,” Patrick jumped in, defending himself. “It makes it more fun.”  
  
Dana and Richie exchanged a look. Patrick ignored them and dug into his plate of spaghetti.  
  
**  
  
It was snowing again by the time they made it back to the house, wet flakes pouring down and sticking to their coats.  
  
“Patrick, don’t be ridiculous,” Dana said when they were getting out of the car. “I have three empty bedrooms – getting a hotel room would be completely absurd.”  
  
Patrick brushed a flake of snow off his face. “I just…I wasn’t sure how you would feel,” he admitted. He looked over at Richie, who was getting out of the car on the other side. Sharing a bed with a man in his mother’s house was something that he had never thought possible.  
  
Dana gave him an incredulous look. “Trust me, honey, I really don’t care – and I’ll care even less after I’ve taken an Ambien.”  
  
Patrick’s eyes widened. “You really shouldn’t take that stuff, Mom. I’ve read articles about it – you could end up driving in your sleep.”  
  
“Well, it hasn’t happened yet and I’ve been taking it for years,” Dana explained calmly. “Now, let’s get inside before we get buried in snow.”  
  
She hurried up the pathway ahead of him, anxious to get out of the storm.  
  
Richie walked up beside him and Patrick brushed a few snowflakes off of his coat. He linked their arms together. “So, it looks like we’ll be sleeping here tonight.”  
  
“Ok. Are you cool with that?” Richie asked.  
  
“Yeah, I think I am.” Patrick realized that he probably should have talked with him about it first. “Are _you_ cool with it?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m good,” Richie replied.  
  
“Good,” Patrick smiled, leaning against him while they walked back to the house.  
  
**  
  
Dana went to the linen closet to grab a few extra blankets and Patrick led Richie down the hall, to his old bedroom.  
  
The room had changed quite a bit. The posters had been taken off the walls and the Nintendo Games were packed away in a box in the garage. Instead of a Power Rangers bedspread, the bed was covered in a dark blue duvet. Patrick still felt sentimental though, looking around the room.  
  
He flopped onto the mattress, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He could see the scuff marks from the scotch tape that had held up his old posters. “If these walls could talk,” he sighed.  
  
“What would they say?” Richie asked, sitting down on the bed next to him.  
  
“They would tell the story of a miserable, horny little geek,” Patrick giggled.  
  
“Nah,” Richie shook his head. “I bet you were a cute kid. I’m gonna ask your Mom to show me pictures.”  
  
Patrick groaned in horror. “Oh God, no. That’s such a bad idea. Please don’t do that.”  
  
Richie laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”  
  
“Oh yes, it can,” Patrick retorted, cringing at the thought of what might be unearthed in his mother’s photo albums.  
  
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Richie offered. “If you let me see your old pictures, I’ll let you look at some of mine when we visit my Mom.”  
  
Patrick brightened at that idea. “I could get on board with that. Are we talking baby photos or awkward high school photos? Or the chunky pre-teen years?”  
  
“Whatever you want,” Richie promised with a laugh.  
  
Patrick looked back up at the ceiling again, tucking his arm behind his head. “Well now I’m really looking forward to San Leandro.”  
  
Richie shifted his gaze downward, picking at a frayed spot on the bedspread. “Maybe you shouldn’t get too excited. I don’t know what it’ll be like, or how long we’ll get to stay.”  
  
Patrick frowned. He brushed his thumb over the top of Richie’s hand. “Are you worried we might run into your Dad?”  
  
“No,” Richie shook his head. “Ceci said she would get him out of the house for a while, show him some cars she’s working on. It’s just weird, you know, going back.”  
  
“Yeah.” Patrick wished he could think of something comforting to say. He pulled himself up into a sitting position on the bed.  
  
“I wouldn’t be doing it if my Mom hadn’t asked,” Richie said. “Christmas is a big deal to her…and she’s been dying to meet you.”  
  
Patrick smiled. “Really? Did she say that?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Richie grinned. “She wants to meet this gringo that her son’s been shacking up with.”  
  
Patrick laughed. “I hope she didn’t put it that way – that sounds kind of sleazy.”  
  
“It’s true though,” Richie pointed out.  
  
“Mmhm,” Patrick smirked, nudging him in the side. “I think I prefer ‘living in sin’ though.”  
  
Richie leaned in closer. “I know you do,” he said, their lips nearly touching.  
  
They kissed, just a few quick pecks, before Patrick pulled away. He glanced over at the open doorway. “My Mom could walk in,” he explained, then sighed helplessly and gave in, kissing him one more time.  
  
Richie laughed. “What do you think’s gonna happen?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Patrick giggled, nuzzling his throat. “I could get grounded for a really long time.”  
  
“Oh, that would be bad,” Richie agreed. “No boys allowed up to your room?”  
  
“Nope. None,” Patrick shook his head.  
  
“We’re gonna have to make out really fast then,” Richie said, grabbing his face and kissing him.  
  
Patrick laughed loudly, but then Richie’s arms were around him and his mouth was on him, and he couldn’t think about anything else.  
  
**  
  
Patrick padded downstairs in his pajama pants and one of Richie’s old t-shirts, with Chiquita tucked under his arm. He didn’t want the dog having any accidents during the night, so he needed to take her outside for a few minutes.  
  
He was surprised to find Dana in the kitchen, standing at the counter. She hastily stuffed a cookie into the pocket of her robe when he entered the room.  
  
Patrick smiled. “You don’t have to hide your edibles from me, Mom.”  
  
Dana looked up at him guiltily. “The holidays are a very stressful time for me,” she said defensively.  
  
“I know. Believe me, I get it.” Patrick held Chiquita against his chest and petted her head.  
  
Dana stepped closer and eyed the dog critically. “She’s such an odd looking little thing,” she lamented. “And look…she’s shivering. You need to get her a sweater, Patrick.”  
  
“I know,” Patrick agreed. “We just didn’t think about it before we left. It doesn’t get this cold in Texas.”  
  
Dana clucked her tongue. She had always been baffled about why they needed to live there, when Patrick already had a job in Denver, and Richie could cut hair anywhere.  
  
“Thanks for the blankets, by the way,” Patrick added. He was extremely relieved that she had been able to get along well with Richie, despite a few awkward moments here and there. It had gone much better than he had expected.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Dana replied. “If it’s not enough and you get cold during the night, you know where the linen closet is.”  
  
“Yeah, of course.” Patrick wanted to say something else to her, but he couldn’t get quite get it out.  
  
Dana squeezed his arm, her eyes suddenly misting up. “It’s so good to have you here…” she told him. “Both of you.”  
  
Patrick could feel himself getting choked up too. “That…that means a lot to me, Mom.”  
  
“It’s the truth,” she assured him. “It gets so lonely in this house sometimes, with you gone and Megan gone and…well, you know I ended things with Charles,” she said, referring to her former boyfriend. “I’d like it if you’d come back and visit more often.”  
  
“Sure, we could do that,” Patrick nodded. He felt guilty that he hadn’t kept in touch with his mother after leaving Denver. They mostly just texted or liked each other’s Facebook posts. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might be going through a hard time after her recent breakup.  
  
“You’re very fortunate, Patrick,” Dana said, a touch of sadness in her voice. “You have someone who cares about you, who wants to take care of you. Appreciate that.”  
  
“I know. I do.”  
  
“You don’t want to be my age, sitting alone in an empty house, getting stoned and watching marathons of "Love it or List it" on Friday nights.”  
  
“Ugh. Do you really do that?” Patrick suddenly felt really bad for her.  
  
Dana nodded and took another bite of her cookie. “I really hate that show,” she confessed.  
  
“So do I, Mom.”  
  
**  
  
Richie was already in bed when Patrick came back upstairs. He looked like he was falling asleep, but he opened his eyes when Patrick pulled back the covers and slid in next to him.  
  
“Hey sleepy,” Patrick murmured, snuggling up against him.  
  
“Your feet are cold,” Richie grumbled.  
  
“Then warm them up for me,” Patrick suggested. The heavy blankets made him feel like they were in a cozy cocoon. Richie’s arms wrapped around him, spooning him from behind. He responded by grinding his hips back against him.  
  
“Oh, is that what you’re after,” Richie grunted.  
  
“Pretty much always,” Patrick giggled, then gasped when Richie’s hand slid under the waistband of his pajama pants.  
  
“Bet you used to jerk off in this room all the time,” Richie surmised, palming his cock.  
  
Patrick grinned. “God, yes.” He shifted around, rolling over so he could face him. “But you’re so much hotter than the Jonathan Taylor Thomas poster that I used to have on my wall.”  
  
Richie laughed, pumping his cock faster. Patrick buried his face into the crook of his neck, trying to muffle any sounds that might drift through the walls. That part was like old times too…except he wasn’t alone anymore. He thought about what his mother had said when they were downstairs and he hugged Richie even tighter, whispering “I love you” into his ear.  
  
“Love you, babe,” Richie said, kissing him. He turned him over on his back and slid down lower, mouthing at his chest until his head disappeared under the covers.  
  
**  
  
When they woke up the next morning, there was a fresh blanket of snow covering the ground. They bundled up in their winter clothing and took Chiquita to the backyard. She quickly relieved herself and then Richie scooped her up, letting her burrow inside his coat.  
  
“See that tree over there,” Patrick said, pointing to an Elm in the corner of the yard. “That’s where I had my first kiss.”  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
Patrick nodded. “It was during my 12th birthday party. Susie Peterson dragged me behind that tree and kissed me right on the mouth, with tongue and everything.”  
  
“Wow. She must have been really into you.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Patrick shrugged. “I think she might have just lost a bet.”  
  
Richie chuckled and put an arm around him. “Ay, Pato. Was she at least a good kisser?”  
  
“Actually, for a girl, not that bad,” Patrick admitted.  
  
They linked arms and trudged across the snow, the dog still safely ensconced underneath Richie’s parka.  
  
“Your birthday’s in August though, so it must have been a lot warmer than this,” Richie pointed out. His nose was red and he was shivering.  
  
Patrick smiled at him sympathetically. “I know you hate this weather.”  
  
“I’m just not used to it,” Richie said. “After being in California, then Texas, it’s kind of a shock.”  
  
Patrick understood what he meant, but he also couldn’t help noticing how cute he looked with a scarf around his neck and a wool cap pulled down low. He leaned in and kissed his cold lips. “Does that make it better?” he smirked.  
  
“No,” Richie laughed. “I’m still freezing my balls off out here.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t want that,” Patrick kissed him again. “I like them so much.”  
  
They held hands and walked back to the house, huddling together for warmth.  
  
**  
  
Dana was brewing coffee when they came back inside. There was a Christmas present, wrapped in shiny red paper, with a bow on top, sitting on the kitchen table.  
  
“Aw, Mom. You didn’t have to get us anything.” Patrick took off his coat and hung it by the door.  
  
“Of course I did. Go ahead and open it,” Dana encouraged, filling her mug with coffee.  
  
Patrick grabbed at it excitedly. When he checked the tag and saw that his Mom had made it out to him _and_ Richie, he smiled from ear to ear. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, looking over at her.  
  
Dana smirked at him over the rim of her coffee cup.  
  
Patrick made sure that Richie saw the tag too, before he helped him tear open the package. Inside was a really nice set of dish towels and oven mitts from Williams Sonoma. “Oh wow,” Patrick sputtered.  
  
“I wanted to get you some dishware, but I thought this would travel easier.”  
  
“No, this is perfect. Thanks so much, Mom.” Patrick walked over and hugged her.  
  
“I actually cook a lot, so we’ll definitely use these,” Richie said.  
  
“I know – I’ve seen pictures on Patrick’s Facebook page,” Dana confessed. “Your empanadas looked delicious. You’ll have to give me your recipe.”  
  
“I’ll definitely do that,” Richie replied.  
  
“He makes really good enfrijoladas too,” Patrick added.  
  
“Hey,” Richie said, nudging him. “Maybe I should go get…”  
  
“Yeah, definitely,” Patrick agreed, catching on. They had a gift for Dana that was still upstairs with their luggage.  
  
Richie left the room to get the present, leaving Patrick alone in the kitchen with his Mom. He put an arm around her, hugging her again. “Thank you. That was really sweet.”  
  
“It was just a little thing,” she said. “I thought you might need it.”  
  
**  
  
They gave Dana a gift basket from Bath  & Body Works. She seemed thrilled with it and Patrick was relieved. He had spent a lot of time fretting over what to get her. It seemed like a big deal, since this was their first joint gift.  
  
“See, I told you it would be fine,” Richie whispered in his ear while Dana was looking through the gift basket.  
  
Patrick smiled at him. He was right. It _was_ fine. All the nightmare scenarios he had envisioned for this trip had failed to materialize.  
  
Bing Crosby sang “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” on the CD Player and Patrick rested his chin on Richie’s shoulder, closing his eyes for just a second. He felt so peaceful and happy.  
  
Chiquita nosed at their feet and Richie picked her up, holding her against his chest. “It’s her first Christmas,” he pointed out.  
  
“Oh, yeah.” Patrick scratched her head. “Merry Christmas, cutie.”  
  
Chiquita yipped back at him in response.  
  
**  
  
After the presents were opened and the wrapping paper was cleared away, Patrick went upstairs to take a shower. He dried off and got dressed, then gathered up some of their belongings that were scattered around the bedroom. They only had a few more hours left before their flight to San Francisco. He was so excited to see their friends again, but anxious about meeting Richie’s Mom.  
  
When he came back downstairs, Dana and Richie were sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and looking through old photo albums.  
  
“And this is Patrick in the first grade,” Dana said, pointing at a photo.  
  
“Oh, he’s missing teeth,” Richie smiled fondly.  
  
“Yes, he had a lot of visits from The Tooth Fairy that year.” Dana thought about it for a minute, “Then, I think it was around that same time that he decided he wanted to _be_ The Tooth Fairy…”  
  
“Oookay,” Patrick interrupted. “That’s enough of that story.”  
  
It was too late though. Richie was already intrigued. “Did you wear a costume?” he asked him.  
  
“No,” Patrick shook his head grimly. “Dad wouldn’t let me. I was a cowboy for Halloween instead.”  
  
“Well, what did you expect us to do?” Dana defended their decision. “If we’d let you run around the neighborhood in pink fairy wings, you would have been bullied relentlessly. We were looking out for you.”  
  
Richie turned the page in the album and Patrick leaned on the back of the couch, looking over his shoulder. He winced when he saw a photo of himself at sixteen. “Ugh, fat _and_ pimply – you can skip that page.”  
  
Richie shook his head, smirking at him. “No, I told you I’d still be into you.”  
  
Patrick beamed and squeezed his shoulder. Richie obviously saw something different when he looked at those pictures.  
  
“Just wait until we get to my Mom’s house,” Richie warned him. “Then you’ll see some _really_ awkward photos.”  
  
“Oh, are you going to be staying with your mother while you’re in San Francisco?” Dana asked, taking a sip of her coffee.  
  
“No, uh, my family’s in San Leandro, actually,” Richie explained. “We’ll just have a short visit with my Mom, maybe see my siblings.”  
  
Dana didn’t pry about Richie’s Dad and Patrick was grateful for that. He knew Richie was stressed about going home, even if it was only for a few hours. He rubbed his shoulder and then slid onto the couch beside him.  
  
The next page of the album was more regrettable photos from Patrick’s senior year, including his completely platonic prom date.  
  
“You know,” Dana murmured, examining one of the photos. “I once dated a young man who was Mexican.”  
  
“No shit?” Richie blurted out.  
  
Patrick’s eyes widened. “What? When? You never told me that.”  
  
“I was in college,” Dana explained calmly. “He was an exchange student. We only went out a few times...his grasp of the English language was not very good, so I helped him a little with that.”  
  
“Wow,” Patrick was still trying to wrap his head around this new information. “So, what did you do on your dates, if he couldn’t speak English?”  
  
Dana quirked an eyebrow and gave him a pointed look. “Let’s just say he was _very_ gifted in other areas, Patrick.”  
  
Richie laughed.  
  
“Oh. God.” Patrick made a face. He had walked right into that. Thankfully, they were coming to the end of the photos.  
  
Richie drank the last of his coffee and checked the time on his phone. “We should probably start packing our bags,” he pointed out.  
  
“I, uh, kind of already did,” Patrick admitted.  
  
Richie rolled his eyes at him, but he was smiling. He knew how fastidious Patrick could be about packing a suitcase – everything had to be so perfect. “You just can’t wait to get to San Francisco.”  
  
“I know. I really can’t,” Patrick grinned. They hadn’t seen everyone since their farewell party before they left on their road trip. He had missed them all like crazy. They called and texted constantly, but it wasn’t the same.  
  
Dana picked up another photo album and opened it. “Oh, here’s photos of Patrick at computer camp.”  
  
“Oh my God,” Patrick grabbed the album out of her hands. “We don’t need to look at that.”  
  
“But you were so cute.”  
  
“No, Mom. Just _no_.”  
  
**  
  
Richie took their suitcases to the car while Patrick and Dana stood on the porch, saying their goodbyes.  
  
“Please come back soon,” Dana pleaded, holding onto his arm.  
  
“We will. We’ll really try to get back here more often, I promise.” Patrick didn’t say it, but knowing that his Mom could actually get along well with Richie made the prospect of coming home not so daunting.  
  
Dana seemed to read his mind, glancing toward Richie thoughtfully. “I don’t know why you thought I wouldn’t like him.”  
  
Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Really? Do you not remember the thirty minute lecture you gave me when I told you I was moving to Texas with him?”  
  
Dana shook her head. “That wasn’t about Richie, that was about Texas. It’s just so dreadful, Patrick. Honestly, you could live anywhere.”  
  
Patrick opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. They had gotten comfortable in Dallas and made some new friends, but he couldn’t truthfully say it was his favorite place in the world. He sometimes had pangs of homesickness for their old haunts in San Francisco. Richie had really needed to get away though and he wanted to be supportive.  
  
“I’m glad he’s progressing in his career, even if it is a bit unconventional,” Dana continued. “There _are_ more profitable ways to be a hair stylist…”  
  
Patrick glared at her. “Please don’t start with that.”  
  
“Start with what?” Dana asked innocently. “I just want your boyfriend to be successful, that’s all.”  
  
“He _is_ successful,” Patrick insisted. “Maybe not by your standards, but we’re both making enough to pay our bills and live in a nice apartment _and_ we’re really fucking happy.”  
  
“Ok, ok.” Dana put her hands up. “There’s no need to be hostile. I was simply going to offer a few suggestions.”  
  
“We don’t need any, Mom. We’re doing fine,” Patrick assured her wearily.  
  
“I know you are.” Dana held his arm. “You seem to be very content. I’m glad to see that.”  
  
Patrick gave her a tentative smile, still bristling over her comments about Richie’s career. She could be so exasperating sometimes. He pulled his coat tighter around himself and watched as Richie closed the trunk of the car.  
  
“I think that’s everything,” he said when he came back up the walk, “except the dog.”  
  
Chiquita was waiting for them in the living room, already zipped into her pet carrier. “I’ll get her,” Patrick offered.  
  
He went inside and found her, snuggled up with one of her dog toys. “Hey,” he said, talking to her through the mesh on the side of the carrier. “Guess what? You’re about to meet Dom and Agustín and Eddie and Doris…”  
  
Patrick toted her to the front door, which was opened wide enough that he could see his Mom and Richie, hugging awkwardly.  
  
“Be good to my son,” Dana asked, her manicured fingernails squeezing Richie’s shoulder.  
  
“Always,” Richie promised.  
  
**  
  
When they were seated on the plane later, waiting for take-off, Patrick sent a text to Dom, reminding him to pick them up at SFO in about three hours. Then he checked his Instagram, thumbing through it idly. He stopped when he saw Richie’s latest post.  
  
_Mi Amor, 5 años de edad #FelizNavidad #MerryChristmas_ , he had captioned a photo of young Patrick in front of the Christmas tree, wearing Spider Man pajamas.  
  
Patrick smiled, glancing over at him. Richie was reading a magazine he had bought before they boarded the plane. Patrick leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.  
  
“What?” Richie looked up, surprised.  
  
“Merry Christmas.” Patrick kissed him again, feeling so incredibly happy. He hoped they would get to spend all the holidays together, for many years to come.  
  
Richie took his hand, threading their fingers together. “Merry Christmas, Pato.”


	2. San Francisco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Anyanka & Parachutes in the Sky for helping me with the Spanish dialogue.  
> Richie's haircut looks like [this](http://raulcastillofans.tumblr.com/post/150475103061/ra%C3%BAl-castillo-bello-mag-outtake).  
> I'm on tumblr [here](https://babybebopfanfic.tumblr.com/).

“Oh my God, get the fuck over here.” Patrick ran to Dom and tackled him outside the terminal. They hugged each other for a long time, not wanting to let go.

“Welcome home, Paddy,” Dom said, kissing him on the cheek.

They finally parted and Dom went over to help Richie, taking one of the bags he was carrying and giving him a half hug.

“Hey, good to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too. Nice buzzcut,” Dom said, gesturing at Richie’s recently shorn hair.

Richie smiled and rubbed his head. “Thanks. I kind of did it on a whim.”

“Yeah, he didn’t warn me or anything. I just came home one day and his hair was gone.” Patrick had gotten over his initial surprise and now he thought it looked really hot.

Dom put their suitcase in the trunk. Richie opened the door to the backseat and picked up the pet carrier.

“Is that your dog?” Dom asked.

“Yeah, that’s Chiquita,” Patrick beamed. “Isn’t she cute?”

Dom chuckled. “You do realize you’re basically a gay cliché now, Paddy – you know, the gay couple with a tiny dog.”

Patrick’s jaw dropped. He had never thought of it that way. “No, we’re not,” he protested. “We’re complex, multi-layered people who happen to enjoy having a small breed dog.”

“Uh huh.” Dom laughed.

“It’s cool, Pato,” Richie said, patting him on the back. “I don’t mind being a cliché with you.”

**

Patrick stared out the window the entire drive, taking in all of the sights. He didn’t know when they’d be returning and he wanted to absorb everything he’d missed about living in the city.

“There’s Bi Rite,” Patrick said, overcome with nostalgia. He remembered standing in line with Richie, waiting for ice cream. He had been so naïve, thinking it would actually work with Kevin. Thank God he had eventually come to his senses.

“You must be hungry,” Richie guessed, correctly.

“I’m always hungry,” Patrick grinned at him.

**

“Seriously Agustín, stop feeding her pizza,” Patrick warned, exasperated. “She’s not supposed to have people food.”

Agustín looked up with a ‘Who Me?’ expression on his face. He had been surreptitiously sneaking bites to Chiquita, who was sitting on Richie’s lap.

They had met up with Agustín and Doris for a late lunch. Everyone was scarfing down pizza and talking over each other, just like old times.

“I could eat this entire pizza by myself,” Doris claimed. “Being pregnant is awesome – and by awesome, I mean horrible. They’re going to have to roll me into the hospital when this is all over.”

“You don’t look that big, Doris,” Patrick assured her.

“Aw, you’re so sweet – a total liar, but very sweet.”

“You should name the baby Chelsea,” Dom suggested, smiling at her.

Doris laughed. “Oh my God, that’s right - you guys missed our amazing Halloween costumes. I was Bill and Malik was Hillary.”

“The resemblance was uncanny,” Dom chimed in.

“What did you guys do for Halloween?” Agustín asked, leaning back in his seat and biting into a slice of pizza.

Patrick took a sip of Coke and looked over at Richie. “We didn’t dress up this year.”

“Yeah, we went to a bar though,” Richie reminded him.

“Right. We had a few beers and then we went home and watched some horror movies on Netflix.”

“Nightmare on Elm Street,” Richie added.

Patrick turned back to Agustín and saw blatant disappointment written all over his face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m sorry Paddy, I just think that’s so depressing.” Agustín frowned. “I mean, I know Texas is boring, but I hoped you were at least finding _something_ to do…”

“Hey,” Patrick interrupted. “Texas is _not_ boring. We’ve actually had some really fun times.”

Agustín smirked, not seeming to believe him. “Ok, if you’re having so much fun there, tell me – when was the last time you got rip roaring drunk and partied your ass off?”

“Uh,” Patrick hesitated with his answer. The fun times he was referring to were actually more low key. He glanced over at Richie for support.

“You drank a lot of wine at Thanksgiving,” Richie reminded him.

“Oh my _God_.” Agustín was even more disgusted. He held up a hand in surrender. “That’s it – we’re going out tonight. I’m bringing the drugs and we’re gonna get wasted.”

“That’s so unfair,” Doris interjected. “I have to stay sober for the next five months.”

“I’ll get twice as drunk just for you, Dor,” Dom offered.

Doris laughed and hugged his arm. “You better.”

“What do you think?” Patrick asked, turning to Richie. Going out and dancing all night actually sounded like a really good idea. He was loath to admit it though, because Agustín was being so annoying and he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Richie was only half listening, distracted by the latest texts on his phone. They had a specific time for when they needed to get to San Leandro, if they didn’t want to risk running into Richie’s Dad.

“You should ask Dom about the hot guy he’s been dating,” Doris suddenly blurted out, loudly.

“What?! You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.” Patrick was shocked that he hadn’t heard anything about this.

“He’s not…” Dom hedged awkwardly. “I wouldn’t really call him my boyfriend. It’s still new.”

“He looks like Chris Hemsworth,” Doris shared excitedly.

“Ok, now I’m _really_ going to need the details.” Patrick leaned forward on his elbows.

Richie nudged him. “We gotta go,” he said, tucking his phone back in his pocket and picking up the dog, who had been wiggling around on his lap.

“Oh, yeah.” Patrick slid out of the booth and stood up. He took Chiquita from Richie and handed her to Dom. “Don’t feed her anything except what’s in the bag in your car and don’t let her outside unless she’s on a leash…”

“I know. I’ll take good care of her,” Dom promised.

“Ok.” Patrick took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He was about to meet Richie’s Mom and it was freaking him out a little bit.

Dom gave him a hug. “Good luck, Paddy.”

“Thanks,” Patrick sighed. They were going to need it.

**

They took the BART to San Leandro and Richie’s nerves seemed to increase the closer they got to their destination. Patrick tried to distract him, chatting about their plans for that night and showing him videos on his phone. He wasn’t used to playing this role though. Richie was usually the calm, steady presence in their relationship.

“I can’t look at anymore cat videos,” Richie finally said.

“Yeah, I know.” Patrick put his phone away and grabbed Richie’s hand. “It’s going to be fine,” he told him. “We survived my Mom, we can definitely survive yours.”

Richie grinned at him ruefully. “My Mom’s not the same as yours, Patrick.”

“Really?” Patrick pretended to be surprised. “You mean your Mom _didn’t_ fuck her therapist?”

Richie managed to laugh at that.

“It’ll be ok,” Patrick said, trying to convince himself as much as Richie. He rubbed his arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s usually my line,” Richie pointed out, smiling at him.

“I know,” Patrick laughed. “You tell me that all the time.”

Richie got quiet after that, turning his head and looking out the window. The intercom announced the next stop and Patrick leaned back in his seat, taking his phone out of his pocket again. He scrolled through Youtube, finding “Surprised Kitty” and clicking replay.

**

The house Richie grew up in was white, two-story, with blue trim around the windows. There was a big tree in the front yard and a child’s tricycle parked underneath it.

They stood at the end of the driveway for a few minutes before going in. “Let me know when you’re ready,” Patrick offered sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Richie nodded. “I am. It’s just…the last time I was here, it didn’t go so well.”

“I know.” Patrick cringed thinking about some of the things Richie’s Dad had said to him. He didn’t blame him for not wanting to come back after that.

“I don’t want that to happen again, especially not with you here.”

Patrick put a hand on his shoulder. “It won’t be that bad…and if it does start getting uncomfortable, we can just leave, ok? We’ll just say ‘fuck it’ and go back to the city.”

“Yeah, ok,” Richie agreed.

The screen door on the porch swung open and slammed closed. They both looked over to see a little girl with long, dark hair running toward them. “Uncle Richie!” she screeched.

Richie broke into a wide smile, stooping down and holding his arms open for her. “Ah, Sofia, look at you – you’ve grown up so much.” He lifted her up and swung her around.

“Daddy said you weren’t coming,” she said.

Richie frowned. “Well, Daddy was wrong about that.”

“Is this your niece?” Patrick asked. “It’s nice meeting you, Sofia.”

She chewed on her bottom lip and stared at him. “Who are you?” she asked, shyly.

“My name’s Patrick. I’m…” he hesitated, searching for the best way to put it.

Richie noticed his awkwardness and changed the subject. “Let’s go inside and see your Abuela,” he said, carrying Sofia up the driveway.

She rested her head on Richie’s shoulder and whispered to Patrick, “I’m getting an Elsa doll for Christmas.”

“Really? How do you know that?” Patrick smiled at her.

Sofia giggled and shook her head, not answering.

**

“Mamá aquí estamos,” _(Mamá we’re here)_ Richie called out when they stepped inside the house. He put Sofia down and she ran off to play with her Barbie Dolls, which were scattered on the floor in front of the TV.

A beautiful, dark haired young woman in an apron appeared in the entryway to the kitchen. She smiled broadly, yelling over her shoulder, “Mom – Richie’s here!”

Richie hugged her warmly. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time.”

“You should come home more often.”

When they separated, Richie introduced them. “This is my sister, Jackie. Jackie, this is Patrick, my boyfriend.”

“Hi,” Patrick smiled at her. “Good to meet you.”

“Ay, Ricardo.” Richie’s mother, Dolores, came barreling out of the kitchen from behind Jackie. She was also wearing an apron and her hands were covered in dough. “Te extrañé mucho,” _(I missed you so much)_ she said, pulling him into an embrace. “Mi bebé está en casa.” _(My baby is home)._.

“Yo también te extrañé.” _(I missed you too)._

Dolores stepped back, wiping tears off her face.

“No llores,” _(Don’t cry)_ Richie said, even though his eyes were shining too.

Dolores looked over, seeming to notice Patrick for the first time. Her eyes widened and she smiled softly. “Este es…” _(Is this...)_ she asked Richie.

Richie nodded. “This is Patrick,” he said, gesturing for him to come closer.

Patrick stepped forward. “I’m so glad to finally be meeting you.”

“I’m happy to be meeting _you_ ,” She took his hand and squeezed it. “I’ve been begging Ricardo to come and see us…bring the boyfriend, bring the dog, I don’t care. Just _come_.”

“Mom…” Richie sighed.

“Anyway, he finally listened to me, thank God.” Dolores glanced behind her, suddenly remembering the meal she’d been preparing. “I need to check the ham and get the buñuelos ready. Come in here with me…”

Dolores and Jackie went back into the kitchen and Patrick turned to Richie. “What are buñuelos?”

“It’s deep fried dough,” Richie explained, “with powdered sugar and cinnamon.”

“Oh my God, that sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, now you know why I was such a fat kid.”

**

“I wish Carmen had been able to come with you,” Dolores said, pushing the ham back in the oven and closing it.

“I know, but she’s been really busy with work. She sends her love though.” Richie leaned against the kitchen counter and his Mom nudged him out of the way, needing the space to roll out her dough.

Patrick looked around the room. There were pots and pans everywhere, including the stove. He peered into a large pot to see what was boiling. It smelled really good, whatever it was.

“Jackie, why don’t you let Ricardo make the Green Bean casserole? Patrick can do the potatoes.”

Patrick looked up, startled. Jackie handed him a Potato Masher and he must have looked confused about what to do with it, because she added, “Drain the water first, then mash.”

“Ok, I can do that,” Patrick exhaled. He wasn’t completely hopeless in the kitchen – he could make basic stuff, like scrambled eggs and mac and cheese. It was just that he wasn’t used to preparing food that would be eaten by Richie’s entire family.

“Here, Pato,” Richie said, handing him some pot holders. “You’re gonna need something to strain it.” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a colander.

“Thanks, I think I can manage,” Patrick smiled at him.

Richie hovered beside him while he dumped the steaming hot water out in the sink.

“Ricardo, ¿cómo puedes estar con un hombre que no cocina para ti?” _(How can you be with a man who doesn’t cook for you?)_ Dolores said, in a mocking tone.

“Él cocina un poco, mamá,” _(He cooks a little)_ Richie responded. “Y es bueno en muchas otras cosas.” _(And he’s good at a lot of other things)._

“Yeah, I bet,” Jackie blurted out, with a wink.

“Jackie!” Richie laughed and gave her a playful shove.

Patrick listened to the back and forth between the three of them while he mashed the potatoes. He wasn’t completely sure what they were saying, but he had a feeling it had something to do with him.

“Where’s _your_ guy at today?” Richie asked, while he opened a can of green beans. “I saw his car out front.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “He’s down the street with Rey, drooling over Joe Serrano’s new motorcycle. I told him I’d rather stay here, in case Alejandro wakes up.”

Dolores sighed at the mention of her new grandson. “You have to see the baby. He’s so beautiful – like you and your brother when you were little.”

Patrick looked up from his potato mashing and caught Richie’s eye. He was grinning at him. “What?”

“You were _really_ hammering those potatoes,” Richie chuckled. “I thought it was cute.”

“I just want to get the lumps out,” Patrick explained. “I hate lumpy mashed potatoes.”

Richie added fried onions to the casserole he was making and pulled open the oven, sliding the dish inside. “C’mon, I want to show you something,” he said, grasping Patrick’s elbow.

Patrick put down the potato masher and followed him out of the room.

**

They walked up a short flight of stairs, careful to be quiet, since the baby was sleeping in one of the bedrooms.

“Which one was your room?” Patrick asked.

“Right here,” Richie said, opening the door to a room with two single beds. Unlike Patrick’s old bedroom, Richie’s looked like it had pretty much stayed the same. There was a trunk spilling over with children’s toys and superhero bedsheets.

“My nieces and nephews stay here a lot,” Richie explained. “That’s why there’s so much kid’s stuff.”

Patrick looked through some of the toys. “Yeah, I didn’t think you had a Barbie Dream Car.”

Richie laughed. “That was my sister’s.”

“Did you share a room with your brother?” Patrick asked, sitting on one of the beds.

“Yeah – five kids. We all had to share everything,” Richie explained. “My brother, Rey, slept over there. You’ll probably get to meet him before we leave.”

“That must have been fun, having so many siblings,” Patrick said wistfully. “You always had someone to play with.”

Richie shrugged. “We were closer when we were kids. I mean, you know I still talk to my sisters, but my brother and I….I don’t know what it’s going to be like, seeing him.”

Patrick rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok. I’ve got your back.”

“Oh, yeah?” Richie grinned. “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick laughed. “But I can pretend that I’m really tough.”

Richie chuckled. “Pato, you crack me up sometimes.”

“Good. I like that.” Patrick kissed him.

“We’ve gotta get back downstairs,” Richie sighed, “Before Mom sends out a search party.”

“Yeah, ok,” Patrick agreed, hopping up from the bed.

They walked out to the hallway and Patrick followed behind Richie, slowing down when he noticed the framed photos lining the walls.

“Oh yeah, there’s the pictures you wanted to see.”

“Oh my God, you were so fucking hot.” Patrick stared at a family photo, taken when Richie was in high school.

“Please,” Richie scoffed. “I had zits and, like, no chest hair.”

“You caught up though,” Patrick pointed out, patting him on the chest. His gaze shifted to a different photo, hanging above the other one. “Where are you in this one?”

“I’m the baby on Carmen’s lap, and Jackie’s over here,” he said, pointing. “Then Rey’s over here, beside Mom and Dad. Elena wasn’t born yet.”

“Wow.” Patrick tried to imagine what it would be like to grow up in such a large family, so different from his own. “I think you kind of look like your Dad,” he observed.

“No,” Richie answered emphatically. “I don’t think so.”

Patrick didn’t know how he could overlook the resemblance, but he could understand why he might not want to see it. The rift between them was so ugly and sad. It was impossible to look at photos of the family in happier times and not think about it.

Richie glanced at another framed photo, this one of him with his Dad and his brother, taken when he was in his teens. He frowned darkly at the sight of it. “Let’s go back downstairs,” he muttered, looking away.

“Yeah, sure,” Patrick agreed.

**

Richie’s sister, Elena, and her husband arrived soon after, along with their three rambunctious children. Patrick jumped out of the way to avoid colliding with the boys while they chased each other through the house.

“Watch where you’re going,” Richie called after them.

Patrick looked at him with raised eyebrows. “You weren’t kidding when you said you had a lot of nieces and nephews.”

“Yeah,” Richie agreed, “and this still isn’t everyone.”

They walked into the living room, where Elena’s husband, Javier, was on the couch watching a football game. He was portly, with a thin mustache, clad in a Giants sweatshirt.

Elena ducked her head into the room from the kitchen. “Richie, Mom wants you in here.”

“Ok,” Richie responded. He patted Patrick on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

Once he had left the room, Patrick looked around, not really sure what to do with himself. Without Richie beside him, he felt very out of place.

He went over to the couch and sat down, gingerly, next to Javier.

“Hey,” Javier said, glancing over at him.

“Hey,” Patrick replied, following his gaze to the football game. He had no idea what was happening on the field, but he tried to fake interest.

“My brother’s gay,” Javier blurted out suddenly.

“Oh. I, uh, didn’t know that. Good for him.” Patrick stammered awkwardly.

“Yep,” Javier continued. “I’m just saying, I get how it is, with you and Richie. I don’t judge you guys.”

“Well, that’s nice. Thank you saying that.” Patrick had been warned that Richie’s male relatives had a harder time being accepting. He was glad to know there was at least one exception.

“Yeah, I mean, I just think, live and let live. I may not agree with the lifestyle, but only Christ can judge.”

Patrick’s back stiffened. “Ok, um, I think I’ll go find out what Richie’s doing.”

He jumped up from the couch and hurried out of the room.

**

Richie and his Mom were in a small room off the kitchen. When Patrick got closer, he realized it was the laundry room. He wasn’t eavesdropping – he couldn’t, since they were speaking in Spanish – but he decided to linger in the hallway instead of interrupting. It was better than hanging out with Javier.

“¿Por qué no al menos intentas hablar con él?” _(Why don’t you at least try to talk to him?)_ Dolores pleaded.

“Ya lo intente. Él no entiende. Me gritó. Me llamó maricón...” _(I did try. He doesn't understand. He yelled at me. He called me a fag...)_ Richie sounded frustrated, on the verge of tears.

“Lo sé. Él es ignorante y terco. Se esconde tras una pared porque tiene miedo." _(I know. He is ignorant and stubborn. He puts up a wall because he is afraid)._ Dolores was tired. “Sólo quiero que esta pelea se termine, Ricardo. Quiero que seas parte de nuestra familia de nuevo.” _(I just want the fighting to stop, Ricardo. I want you to be part of our family again)._

“Yo también. Yo también” _(Me too. Me too)._ Richie was definitely crying. Patrick fought the urge to go in and comfort him. Instead, he held back.

“No nos estamos haciendo más jóvenes, sabes? La salud de tu padre no es buena. Él no se cuida a sí mismo. ¿Qué pasa si algo sucede y que nunca tengas una oportunidad de resolver esto?” _(We're not getting any younger, you know. Your father's health isn't good. He doesn't take care of himself. What if something happened and you never had a chance to resolve this?)_

“No sé, mamá. No sé qué más hacer.” _(I don’t know, mamá. I don’t know what else to do)._

“Ven aquí, limpia tus lágrimas.” _(Come here, wipe your tears away)._

Richie’s voice was muffled in his mother’s shoulder, but it sounded like he said “Lo siento.” _(I’m sorry)._

“No no. No te disculpes conmigo.” _(No, no. Don’t apologize to me)._ Dolores stroked his hair. ¿Estás feliz en Texas, con Patrick? Eso es lo que me importa.” _(Are you happy in Texas with Patrick? That’s what I care about)._

"Sí, mucho.” _(Yes, very)._

“Muy bien. Todo lo que quiero es que seas feliz. Tu Papá también. Solo que él no sabe cómo expresarlo.” _(Good. All I want is for you to be happy. Papá does too. He just doesn’t know how to express it)._  
  
The room got quiet after that. Patrick leaned his shoulder against the wall beside the doorway and wiped his eyes.

“Ven. Tenemos que prepararnos para la cena.” _(Come. We need to get ready for dinner)._

“Ya voy. Sólo dame un minuto.” _(I’ll be right there. Just give me a minute)._

Patrick stood up straight and tried to pretend he hadn’t been creeping in on their private conversation.

When Dolores walked out and saw him standing there, she smiled at him affectionately. Her eyes were red like she had been crying too. “Dulce niño,” _(Sweet boy)_ she murmured, patting him on the shoulder as she passed him on the way to the kitchen.

Patrick went into the laundry room and found Richie hunched over the washing machine, his head in his hands. He didn’t look up when he came in.

“Hey,” he said, touching his back.

Richie finally lifted up his head, not saying anything, just falling into his arms. Patrick held onto him, rubbing his back and whispering soothing words into his ear.

**

Patrick went to the refrigerator to get a Coke for Richie. Before he opened the door, he stopped to look at some of the photos covering it, held in place by Catholic saint refrigerator magnets. There were pictures of all of Richie’s siblings, by themselves and with their families. Only one child was missing.

He swung open the door to the fridge and pulled out a cold can of Coke, wondering what had happened to the Christmas card they had sent Richie’s mother.

**

“You _did_ , Elena. You totally fell into the Christmas tree,” Richie insisted. They were sitting on the front porch with their soft drinks and beers, watching the sun set with his sisters.

“Maybe I slipped a _little_ ,” Elena admitted. “I was wearing really high heels and I lost my balance.”

“She almost took the whole Christmas tree down,” Richie told Patrick. They were talking about something that had happened when they were teenagers.

Jackie’s baby fussed on her lap. “Shh, Alejandro,” she shushed him. He was a round little butterball of a baby, with thick black hair, even though he was only two months old.

“You know what I was just thinking about,” Elena laughed and sipped her beer. “Remember, during Las Posadas, how you were always so excited to stop at Danny Vasquez’s house? You were so hot for him, Richie.”

“No, not really,” Richie shook his head. “It was the food. His Mom was a really good cook. That was the main thing.”

“What about you, Patrick?” Elena asked, turning to look at him. “What did your family do for Christmas when you were a kid?”

Patrick hesitated, trying to think of a fun memory to share. “We would go to Aspen sometimes. I don’t really like skiing, but it was really important to my Dad that I learn, for some reason.” He took a swig of Coke, “and, one year, my sister Megan saw Sylvester Stallone cutting in line.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Jesus, your family must be loaded.”

“ _Elena…_ ” Richie warned.

“I’m just sayin’,” she shrugged. “Did you have your own private plane?”

“ _No_.” Patrick gaped at Richie. “Why does everyone think that?”

“She’s just fuckin’ with you, Pato.” Richie glared at his sister. “Cool it Elena, or I’ll tell Patrick why you had to come home early on the first day of fifth grade.”

She shut up quickly after that, so whatever Richie had on her must have been pretty embarrassing.

Jackie stood up, gently rocking Alejandro in her arms. He whimpered and she glanced over at Patrick, who had been sitting next to them. “Do you want to hold him for just a second?”

“Um, I don’t, I mean…” Patrick stammered.

“I’ll be right back. I just need to run to the fridge and get his bottle,” Jackie explained.

“Uh, ok,” Patrick grudgingly agreed. He held out his arms and she plopped the baby onto his lap before dashing back into the house.

Alejandro stared at him, wide eyed, and burbled a little bit. A string of drool slid down his chin.

“Here,” Richie reached over and lifted up his bib to wipe the drool.

“Thanks,” Patrick smiled at him. “I’ve actually never held a baby before, so…”

“Seriously?” Elena asked.

“Yeah. My sister doesn’t have any kids. Not yet anyway.”

“You’re doing fine,” Richie told him. “Just keep supporting his head with your arm like that.”

Patrick looked down at the baby and then back at Richie again. He couldn’t help thinking that they could possibly be doing this someday, with their own baby. It wasn’t hard to imagine, and it didn’t freak him out, like it once would have. It just seemed completely natural, that they would end up there.

Richie smiled at him dreamily and he knew that he was having the same feelings.

A car door slammed, jolting them back to reality. They looked up to see two men heading up the driveway. Patrick recognized one of them as Richie’s brother and assumed that the other must be Jackie’s husband.

“Hey Manuel,” Richie said warily, when he walked up the steps to the porch.

Manuel didn’t respond, he just grabbed the baby from Patrick and stormed into the house, calling out, “Jackie, !ven aquí! ¡Quiero hablar contigo!” _(Jackie, come here! I want to talk to you!)_

Rey was similarly nonverbal, glaring at them and following Manuel into the house.

“Be careful, Reynaldo!” Elena yelled after him. “Your face is gonna freeze that way!”

**

¿Cómo pudiste invitarlos aquí, sin decirle a papá? _(How could you invite them here, without telling Dad?)_

“Es tu hermano, Reynaldo. Siempre es bienvenido aquí,” _(He’s your brother, Reynaldo. He’s always welcome here)_ Dolores muttered distractedly, while she stirred a pot on the stove.

“Pero qué hay de…” _(But what about…)_ Rey stopped talking when Patrick and Richie came into the kitchen. He seethed with anger, his jaw clenched.

“You got something you need to say?” Richie challenged him. “Go ahead.”

“I’m just wondering what you think’s gonna happen when Dad finds out you were here?” Rey lowered his voice, spitting out each word bitterly. “Le faltas el respeto, metiendote a escondidas a sus espaldas, trayendo a tu novio a su casa.” _(You disrespect him, sneaking in behind his back, bringing your boyfriend into his house)._

“Fuck you. No sabes nada de lo que pasó conmigo y con papá.” _(You don’t know anything about what happened with me and Dad)._

Dolores slammed her spoon down on the counter. “That’s enough,” she said sternly. “Reynaldo, go to the garage and get the extension for the kitchen table.”

“Mamá…” he whined.

“Just _go_ ,” Dolores sighed. When he had left the room, she turned to Richie. “You need to watch your language, mi hijo. Keep your words clean and turn the other cheek.”

Patrick had been observing the familial dysfunction from a safe spot in the doorway. He stepped inside and grasped Richie’s arm. He was still fuming.

“I need to go out and get some air,” Richie muttered. He walked out the back door to the porch, closing it behind him.

Patrick was left alone with Dolores. She looked at him and threw up her hands, as if to say, “What can you do?”

“The food you’re cooking smells delicious,” Patrick told her.

“Gracias,” she said, peering into the oven. “We’ll have ham and tamales, with rice, beans, potatoes, and green bean casserole on the side.”

“What’s this right here?” Patrick asked, lifting up a lid and peering into a pot. “It looks like soup.”

“That’s menudo. It takes all day to cook, but it’s worth it in the end.” Dolores frowned, “Do you think there’s anything you could say to Ricardo to convince him to stay for dinner? It would be so nice if you could stay.”

Patrick shook his head regretfully. “I really don’t think so. Sorry.”

“Ah, well, it’s just a dream,” she sighed. “I know how he is, he won’t budge an inch – and neither will his Dad. So we just go ‘round and ‘round with these same fights, since he was fourteen years old…”

“That’s why you sent him back to Mexico?”

“Oh. He told you about that. Yes…” She shook her head at the memory. “Papá was furious when he found out about him and that boy. We thought going away would change him, but it didn’t.”

Dolores opened the oven and pulled out a pineapple upside-down cake.

“That looks _so_ good.”

“I’ll save some for you and Ricardo,” she promised, opening a cabinet and pulling out a few Tupperwares. “I don’t want you eating fast food on Christmas Eve. You need a real, home cooked meal.”

“That’s so nice. Thank you.” Patrick watched her scoop food into the containers.

“Maybe next year you’ll stay,” Dolores said, looking up at him and smiling sadly.

“Yeah, maybe next year.”

**

“Hey,” Richie said, coming back inside. He went over to where Patrick was standing at the kitchen counter and put a hand on his shoulder. “We need to get going.”

“Ok, sure.”

“ _Already?_ ” Dolores protested. She was getting out the tablecloth and preparing to set the kitchen table.

“Ceci just texted me. They’re on their way back,” Richie explained.

Dolores huffed her disapproval, muttering under her breath, “Tercos como las mulas.” _(Stubborn like mules)._

“Your Mom packed some food for us,” Patrick pointed out.

“Gracias,” Richie said, putting his arms around her.

Dolores’s eyes were tearing up. “Te quiero. Estoy tan contento de haber tenido este tiempo juntos, al menos.” _(I love you. I’m so glad we had this time together, at least)._

Patrick went over to the chair where he had slung the tote bag they brought. He pulled out the gift they had picked out for Richie’s Mom.

“Ah, no,” Dolores said, when she saw the package. “You didn’t have to get me a present. Having you here is enough.”

“It’s just a little something, Mamá. I thought of you when I saw it.”

Dolores opened the small box and found a beautifully carved crucifix inside, dangling from a gold chain. She gasped, “Oh, it’s so gorgeous.”

“You like it?” Richie asked, a bit relieved.

“Of course I do.” She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Gracias, cariño. Feliz Navidad.” _(Thank you, sweetie. Merry Christmas)._

Patrick found himself being swept up in a hug too, Dolores’s plump frame smushing up against his.

“Feliz Navidad, Patrick,” Dolores said, stepping back and patting his cheek.

“Feliz Navidad to you too.”

**

They said goodbye to the rest of Richie’s family, except Manuel and Reynaldo, who were still giving them the stink eye. Dolores went upstairs, making them promise not to leave until she came back down again.

Richie leaned against Patrick while they waited on the front porch.

“We survived,” Patrick said, stroking his hair. “Now we can go back to San Francisco and get _really_ drunk.”

Richie laughed. “Yes, please.”

The screen door swung open and Dolores stepped out onto the porch, carrying a gift bag. She looked like she had been crying. “I can’t let you leave without giving you this.”

“What is it?” Richie asked, taking the bag from her and peeking inside. It was a colorful, hand woven afghan.

“You made this?” Patrick asked, slightly awed.

“I did,” Dolores confirmed. “I make them for all my babies when they…well, when they get married and have their own families. I didn’t know when you’d come home again, so I thought I should give it to you now.”

Richie wiped at his eyes and hugged her. “Te amo Mamá. Gracias.” _(I love you, Mom. Thank you)._

Dolores sobbed into his shoulder, “Te quiero. Por favor vuelve a casa pronto. No te alejes.” _(I love you. Please come home again soon. Don’t stay away)._

Richie didn’t make any promises about when they might be back. He just hugged her for a long time, reluctantly pulling away when it was time to go.

Patrick looked back over his shoulder when they made it to the end of the driveway. Dolores was still on the porch, crying and waving at them.

**

They were both thoroughly exhausted by the time they made it back to San Francisco. Patrick let them into Dom’s apartment with a spare key he found under the mat.

“I wonder where Dom is,” he said, flicking on a light switch.

“I don’t know, but it looks like he took the dog with him.”

Patrick frowned. “That’s a little scary. I hope he’s taking good care of her.”

Richie kicked off his shoes and his coat. “I’m sure they’re fine,” he told him, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Hey,” Patrick brushed a thumb over his cheek. “Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll come with you. I just need to put the food away first.”

“Yeah, ok,” Richie agreed.

He went into the bedroom and Patrick opened the fridge, sliding the Tupperware containers inside. He closed the refrigerator door, leaning against it and taking a minute to look around. It had been such a long time since he’d lived there. So much had changed.

He took his shoes off and quietly slipped into the bedroom, stretching out beside Richie, who was already half asleep.

“Mmm, c’mere,” Richie murmured, snuggling up against him. Patrick smiled, happy to be in his arms.

“Good night, Ricardo,” he couldn’t resist teasing him.

Richie laughed, “Shut up.”

**  
Patrick awoke about an hour later, slightly disoriented. He sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, slowly remembering why they were in bed in his old apartment.

The light was on in the kitchen and he could hear Dom walking around.

Richie mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over. Patrick got up. He tiptoed out of the room and found Dom sitting at the kitchen table, eating leftover Chinese food out of the carton.

“Hey,” he said, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn.

“Hey, did you have a good nap?” Dom asked, shoveling a bite of Chow Mein into his mouth.

Patrick picked up Chiquita off the floor and kissed her head. “Yeah…Richie’s still passed out though. I think I’ll just let him sleep until it’s time to leave, if we’re going to be out partying all night.”

Dom chuckled, “Yeah, Agustín’s on a tear – he thinks you guys are turning into a boring, hetero married couple. It’s his mission to bring you back.”

“Oh God,” Patrick grimaced. He went over to the fridge and pulled out one of the containers they had brought back from San Leandro. “That’s so hypocritical. He’s the one who got married, not me.”

“Hmm,” Dom muttered around a mouthful of food, raising his eyebrows at Patrick.

“What?” Patrick asked, scooping tamales and beans onto a plate.

Dom shrugged. “I don’t know…it’s just that you guys send out these adorable Christmas cards and you’ve got the weird little dog, who’s like a surrogate child.”

Patrick set the timer on the microwave. “Chiquita is _not_ weird.”

“She looks like Peter Lorre.”

“I don’t know who that is.” Patrick took a beer out of the fridge while he waited for his food to warm up. “Besides, who cares if we act like a married couple? Maybe I like it that way.”

“Hey, whatever works for you.” Dom picked up a vegetable potsticker with his chopsticks.

The microwave dinged and Patrick took his plate out. He sat down at the table, next to Dom, and dug in. “Oh my God,” he said, around a mouthful of tamale. “This is fucking incredible.”

“Did Richie’s Mom make that?”

Patrick nodded. “You have to try this. Here…” he speared a bite with his fork and offered it Dom.

“That is _really_ good.”

“Mmhm, she’s an amazing cook.” Patrick scooped another forkful into his mouth.

“How did that go, meeting Richie’s family?” Dom asked, digging back into his Chinese food.

“Eh,” Patrick shrugged. “Not great, but it could have been worse.”

Chiquita whined at his feet and he picked her up, letting her sit on his lap while he ate.

“You know what I want to know about?” Patrick continued, grinning at Dom slyly. “I want you to tell me about this guy you’ve been dating.”

“Ah, I don’t know,” Dom shook his head. He got up from the table to grab another beer from the fridge.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Patrick whined.

“There isn’t much to tell,” Dom said defensively. “We’ve gone out a few times, we get along really well.”

“Is he coming tonight? What’s his name?”

“His name is Michael.” Dom sat down again. “And you won’t get to meet him tonight – he’s in Oregon visiting his family until after Christmas.”

Patrick frowned, “Well, that sucks. How did you guys meet?”

“He’s a restaurant critic. He came by one day and ordered some chicken, then he ended up giving us a really good review.”

“Of course he did – he was into you,” Patrick grinned. “How hot is he in bed?”

Dom stole a bite of tamale off his plate. “Very hot – and, before you ask – yes, he has a big cock.”

Patrick laughed. “How did you know I was going to ask about that?”

“Because I know you,” Dom smiled.

“Yeah, you do,” Patrick beamed at him.

**

The End Up was packed by the time they arrived, throbbing with people and loud music. Dom wandered off to dance with a cute blonde guy. Patrick looked over at Richie and smiled, grasping his hand. He couldn’t help remembering how their last night there had ended.

“Paddy!” Agustín called out, waving at them as he made his way through the crowd. Eddie was by his side, a Santa Claus hat perched on his head.

“Hey thar, pardners,” Eddie said, affecting a southern drawl. “How’s Texas been treatin’ ya?”

“Really good,” Patrick told him.

“Yeah, but we’re happy to be back in San Francisco,” Richie added.

“Of course you are,” Agustín groaned. “Here, you can commune with other gay people, instead of blending in with Republican countryfolk.”

“There _is_ a gay community in Texas, Agustín,” Patrick insisted. “A very large one, actually.”

“Really?” Agustín asked dubiously. “How many gay people do you work with?”

Patrick faltered at that question. He couldn’t think of anyone that he knew about for sure.

“Uh, I think I’m gonna get us a few drinks,” Richie offered.

“Sounds good to me,” Eddie agreed, following him to the bar.

Patrick turned to Agustín. “Look, I know you don’t believe me, but Texas hasn’t been that bad. There are a lot of gay bars near where we live…even you would have a good time there.”

“I’m not trying to give you a hard time, Paddy,” Agustín said, putting an arm around him. “I just don’t want you guys to feel like you have to act like a straight couple just to fit into a new city.”

“No,” Patrick shook his head firmly. “We don’t do that.”

“Really? Cause every time we talk, you’re either shopping at Target, or picking out a new dog, or going to the Arboretum, whatever the fuck that is.”

“Yeah, so what?” Patrick said defensively. “We have fun doing those things. We’re in our thirties, maybe we don’t _want_ to do molly and party our asses off all the time.”

“That’s fine. I’m just saying – don’t let it get too boring.” Agustín cupped his face in his hands. “Take it from the married guy - you’ve gotta do something crazy every once in a while, otherwise you’re gonna turn into your parents.”

“Eww, no.” Patrick was horrified at the thought.

“Gay it up,” Agustín grinned. “Keep the romance alive.”

Patrick realized, reluctantly, that he did have a good point. He didn’t know how Agustín, of all people, had turned into a relationship expert, but his advice actually made sense.

“And, one of these days,” Agustín added. “You guys seriously need to move back to San Francisco. I hate not having you around.”

“I know,” Patrick agreed, hugging him. “We’ll make it back here someday.”

“Oh good, they’re hugging,” Eddie declared, coming back from the bar with Richie. “Does that mean we can stop arguing about Texas?”

“Yeah, I think we’re done,” Patrick smiled at Agustín. He took the drink that Richie had brought him and swallowed a gulp of it. “Now I want to dance.”

He grabbed Richie’s arm and led him to the dance floor, where Kylie was blaring and strobe lights flashed. Their bodies moved together easily, keeping rhythm with the song.

Patrick caught Richie grinning at him. “What?” he asked.

Richie had to shout to be heard over the music. “I was just thinking about the first time we danced together.”

“Oh, you mean like this?” Patrick laughed, waving his arms over his head.

“Something like that,” Richie chuckled.

“I’m not drunk enough yet. Get me a few shots of tequila and then I’ll _really_ show you some moves.”

**

“To us,” Patrick declared, holding up a shot glass.

“To us,” Richie agreed.

“To our first year together,” Patrick added.

“A year and three months,” Richie pointed out.

“Yeah, but we were long distance for those three months, so it doesn’t count as much.”

“Can we just do the toast?” Richie grinned.

“Yeah, I just wanted it to be accurate.”

“To us,” Richie repeated. They clinked their glasses together and downed the shots.

Patrick’s lips puckered and he made a sour face. “Wow. That is strong tequila.”

“You want another?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

Richie called the bartender over and ordered two more.

Patrick leaned against him, sliding an arm around his waist. “Seriously though, I’m really happy with how this year has gone…ridiculously happy.”

Richie broke into a wide grin. “Me too, Pato. It’s been pretty amazing.”

The bartender brought them their drinks. Patrick picked up his glass and brought it to his lips, but Richie stopped him before he could drink it. “Wait, hold up.”

“What?” Patrick asked curiously.

“I wanna try something.” Richie grabbed a salt shaker off the bar.

Patrick had a feeling he knew what he was going to do, and it was confirmed when he handed him a wedge of lime. “Oh, ok.”

A second later, Richie was pulling back the collar of his shirt and dragging his tongue over his throat. Patrick shuddered, his cock twitching in his jeans. Richie licked his skin thoroughly, more than was really necessary, then coated it with salt.

“Put the lime in your mouth.”

Patrick obeyed quickly, desperate to get Richie’s mouth back on him again. He gasped at the first lick, his mind drifting, thinking about other places on his body where that incredibly talented tongue could go.

Richie pulled away, smirking at him, and Patrick practically whined around the lime wedge in his mouth.

“You like that?” Richie asked, taking his shot and downing it fast. He leaned in close, using his mouth to pull the lime out from between his teeth.

Patrick responded by grabbing his face and kissing the shit out of him. “Mmm, _fuck_ Richie,” he groaned, his tongue darting in and tasting everything.

Richie kissed him back just as forcefully, his hands gripping the back of his head before sliding down to squeeze his ass.

“You are _so_ getting laid tonight,” Patrick breathed out with a giggle.

“Oh yeah?” Richie smirked, kissing him again. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

**

They ended up back on the dance floor. The music changed to Britney’s latest and Patrick wiped sweat from his brow. He felt overheated, in every possible way. His body writhed against Richie’s, dancing as dirty as they could get away with.

Agustín and Eddie shimmied by with their arms around each other.

“Get a room you two!” Eddie called out.

Agustín laughed and they danced off, disappearing into the crowd.

“S’not a bad idea,” Richie slurred, shouting over the music.

“Mmhm,” Patrick agreed, grinding up against him. He clung to Richie, feeling very drunk and dizzy.

Richie lowered his voice as much as he could, murmuring in his ear. “I can feel how hard you are.”

Patrick laughed giddily. “I can feel you too.”

“So why don’ we go somewhere?” Richie suggested.

“Uhhh,” Patrick whined. “I don’ feel like leavin' yet…why can’ you just fuck me right here?”

Richie laughed. “You’ve had way too much to drink, Pato.”

“You had s’much as me,” Patrick pointed out.

“Yeah, but I handle tequila better than you do.”

Patrick couldn’t argue with that. There was ample evidence to prove that Richie was right. His eyes wandered over to the back exit of the club and an idea formed in his heavily intoxicated mind.

“Come with me,” he said, grabbing Richie’s hand and dragging him to the door.

**

They weaved their way through the crowd and then stumbled out the back exit, making out messily and laughing at their own drunkenness.

“What’re we doing out here?” Richie asked, pinning him up against the wall outside the club.

Patrick sighed and kissed him. It was so obvious, he didn’t know why he had to ask. “Cuz I wan’ you to fuck me right here.”

“Pato…” Richie groaned.

“You wan’ it,” Patrick pointed out, cupping the bulge in his jeans. He stroked him through the fabric.

Richie’s eyes went hazy, but he still protested, shaking his head. “Not here. We don’ have any lube…I don’ wanna tear that pretty little ass up.”

“Ugggh,” Patrick whined, deflating a bit. That was an obstacle that he hadn’t actually considered. He looked around, noticing the cars that were parked nearby, and was hit with another moment of inspiration. “Dom’s car,” he blurted out.

“What about it?” Richie asked.

Patrick didn’t answer, he just staggered unsteadily over to the car. Richie followed him and watched while he opened the passenger side door. He popped open the glove box and dug around in there until he found what he was looking for - a half-empty bottle of KY.

Richie laughed. “You’ve gotta tell me how you knew that was in there.”

Patrick giggled and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s a secret.” He kissed him on his lips, his jaw, down to his throat, while slowly leading him around to the back of the car. They would be in the shadows there, just in case anyone happened to come outside.

“Can’ believe we’re doin’ this,” Richie mumbled against his mouth, quickly unzipping his jeans. Everything had to be done hurriedly if they didn’t want to get caught.

Patrick shoved his own pants down to his ankles and leaned forward, pressing his belly against the trunk of the car. He could hear Richie opening the lube and it was only a minute later that he was working a finger inside of him. “Oh shit,” he groaned.

“Such a turn on,” Richie rasped. “Knowin' that you wan’ it so bad.”

“I do, I do,” Patrick babbled. “Wan’ you inside me.”

“Couldn’ even wait for me to get you back to the apartment,” Richie grunted, adding another finger. “So cock hungry.”

“Ahhh, _yes_ ,” Patrick breathed hard, his cheek pressed up against the car.

Richie had three fingers up his ass when they suddenly heard a loud noise. They both froze, eyes darting over to the exit that they had come out of.

“I think the wind just blew somethin' out of the dumpster,” Patrick said, exhaling a relieved sigh.

“Yeah,” Richie breathed, collecting himself again. He removed his fingers from Patrick and stroked himself a few times, lining them up.

Patrick moaned low in his throat when he felt him slowly push inside. The fact that they were doing this raw, with nothing between them, only made it more intense. He could feel the hot, bare skin of Richie’s cock thrusting into him. “Oh my God. Oh fuck.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had sex without protection, of course. They had both gotten tested in Texas and had conversations about it beforehand. Patrick had learned from past experience how important it was to trust each other first.

Richie pounded into him with a frantic rhythm, one hand wrapped around his cock. This wasn’t the time or place for sweet, romantic love. Patrick rolled his hips back against him, panting and muttering filthy words under his breath.

“What if we did caught?” Richie suggested lasciviously. “What if someone walked out right now and saw us?”

Patrick had to admit that the risk, the danger involved, was part of the arousal. It was kinky, for sure, but he was definitely into it. “Uhhh, yeah. So fucking hot,” he muttered.

“They’d see what that sweet face looks like when you’re filled up with my come.”

“Oh, God.” Patrick tilted his head back for a kiss, tongues and lips sliding together sloppily.

Richie continued, fucking into him at a hurried pace and jerking him off at the same time. They could hear the faint sound of music coming from inside the club and cars speeding past on the street nearby.

“Fuuuuck, Pato,” Richie finally cried out, spilling inside of him. His body trembled and he slumped against Patrick, breathing hard.

**

They pulled their pants back up, smiling at each other sheepishly. Sex had sobered them up enough to realize how wild and impulsive they had been.

“Promise me you won’t ever tell Dom that we fucked against his car,” Patrick giggled.

“I won’t,” Richie laughed.

Patrick zipped up his hoodie. He had used his t-shirt to wipe the come off his body and now he was holding it, balled up, in his hand.

“You wanna go back in?” Richie asked, gesturing to the club.

“No way,” Patrick shook his head. “I need a shower – and some Advil for the hangover I’m going to have in a few hours.”

“Yeah, me too.” Richie took his phone out of his pocket, “I’ll call an Uber to pick us up.”

“That sounds good,” Patrick said tiredly. He sank into Richie’s arms, resting his head on his shoulder. “I’m glad we did this.”

“Yeah, it was fun,” Richie agreed. “You were so damn hot.”

Patrick smiled. “Sometimes I have good ideas when I’m drunk.”

**

Patrick woke up the next morning, very slowly cracking his eyes open. There were jackhammers pounding inside his head and a Chihuahua sitting beside the bed, staring at him. “Ugh, go away, Chiquita,” he grumbled, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow.

They had slept on an air mattress in Dom’s living room. It wasn’t very comfortable, but they had both been too wasted to notice.

Richie stirred, waking up and immediately throwing an arm over his eyes. “It feels like the room is spinning.”

“Did we…” Patrick winced. “Did we have sex on a car last night?”

“Yeah, I think we did.”

“Oh my God.” Patrick tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. His stomach lurched. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“You’ll feel better once you get some coffee,” Richie suggested.

“No, seriously. I think I’m going to throw up right here. I can’t make it to the bathroom.” Patrick gagged, clapping a hand over his mouth.

Richie immediately jumped up, grabbing a trash can and holding it under his chin while he vomited up everything in his stomach. “That’s alright, Pato, just let it out,” he said, rubbing his back.

Patrick heaved until there was nothing left. He might have been embarrassed to have his boyfriend see him that way, but he didn’t have enough energy left to care.

When it was over, Richie went to the bathroom and got him a wet towel to wash off his face.

**

“Oh man, Richie, you should know by now not to let Paddy anywhere near tequila.”

“It’s not his fault, Agustín. It’s all mine,” Patrick cringed and massaged his temples with his fingertips. The restaurant was noisier than he could handle.

“If it makes you feel any better, I threw up this morning too,” Doris informed him. “So if you feel like you’re going to do it again, let me know and I’ll go with you. We’ll be throw up buddies.”

“Thank you, Doris, that’s very nice.”  
  
“Eat some more of your eggs,” Richie suggested. “Food will help.”  
  
Patrick picked up a bite of scrambled egg with his fork and chewed it tentatively.  
  
“Where did you guys go last night anyway?” Dom asked, sipping his coffee. “You disappeared after a while.”  
  
Patrick exchanged a look with Richie. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck and he actually managed to smile.  
  
“Oh,” Dom laughed, reading the expressions on their faces. “Enough said.”  
  
“Aww, you went somewhere and got freaky,” Eddie chuckled.  
  
“Where’d you guys do it?” Agustín pried, chewing on his bagel.  
  
“Yes, please tell us everything,” Doris declared sarcastically. “We all want to hear every graphic detail while we eat breakfast.”  
  
Patrick shook his head, grinning at Richie. “No, I think we’ll keep it to ourselves.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s just between us,” Richie said.  
  
**  
  
Later that afternoon, when their hangovers had subsided, they went for a walk along the beach. Patrick took Richie’s hand when they were almost at the Sutro Baths lookout.  
  
“It’s too bad your Señora is closed for the holiday. I could finally meet with her.”  
  
“I have a new one in Texas,” Richie reminded him. “You could come with me next time.”  
  
“I’d like that. I mean, my Spanish still isn’t very good, so you’d have to translate, but I think we could make it work.”  
  
They reached the lookout and sat down in the same places they had been the last time. The view was so breathtakingly gorgeous it made Patrick’s heart ache.  
  
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, taking a deep breath. He didn’t know how Richie would react, but he needed to say it. “I’ve been thinking I might want to move back to San Francisco.”  
  
“Uh, for real?” Richie asked. He was visibly stunned. “So you want us to be long distance again?”  
  
“ _No,_ ” Patrick responded quickly. “I want to be wherever you are, but I’m just saying that I would really love it if that place could be San Francisco again.”  
  
“I don’t know, Patrick…” Richie stared straight ahead, deep in thought.  
  
“It’s not that I’ve been unhappy in Texas, it’s just that…I _really_ miss this city,” Patrick sighed. “I didn’t even realize how much.”  
  
“I know what you mean,” Richie admitted. “We have so many good memories here. It’s cool to be able to walk around and remember.”  
  
Patrick smiled softly at him. “We fell in love here,” he pointed out.  
  
“Yeah, we did,” Richie grinned. “If it wasn’t for public transportation…”  
  
Patrick laughed. “Of course. Thank God for Muni.”  
  
Richie fell silent, his brow furrowing while he considered what Patrick had suggested. “You know," he finally said. "When we decided to leave, I was in a really different place. I needed to get away and start over.”  
  
Patrick frowned, nodding sympathetically. It had taken time for Richie to find himself again, after the fights with his Dad and the breakup with Brady.  
  
“Being able to build my business and spend time with Carmen and her kids has really helped me a lot,” Richie admitted.  
  
“Yeah, I noticed that.” Patrick put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“But, the thing is,” Richie continued. “I don’t think I could have done it without you.”  
  
Patrick scoffed. “That’s so not true.”  
  
“No, I mean it – being with you, you make me feel stronger, like I could do fucking anything. I love you for that.”  
  
“Oh, fuck.” Patrick wiped tears from his eyes and kissed him. “I love you too.”  
  
They held each other for a few minutes, not saying anything, just looking out at the view. The blue water of the ocean stretched out endlessly in front of them.  
  
“I don’t mind,” Patrick finally said. “If you don’t want to move back here, I get it.”  
  
“It’s not that I don’t want to, Pato, I just don’t know how we could afford it. I really like not having to worry about getting my bills paid.”  
  
“Ok,” Patrick said, trying to come up with a different plan. “So maybe we don’t live here then…there are places outside the city that are more affordable.”  
  
Richie mulled it over. “Maybe we could look into that.”  
  
“There’s no hurry,” Patrick told him. “We could talk about it for a while, see if we change our minds once we’re back home.”  
  
“Yeah,” Richie said, “I’m gonna need some time to think about it.”  
  
“That’s fine. I want it to be the right decision for both of us.” Patrick put an arm around Richie’s shoulders and hugged him.  
  
Richie kissed his cheek and rested his head on his shoulder. “The last time I saw my Señora, she told me there’s going to be big changes for us next year.”  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
“Maybe that’s what she was talking about – us moving.”  
  
Patrick was intrigued. “Or maybe it’s something else.”  
  
“I don’t know. She actually made it sound kind of scary, but she said we would get through it, whatever it is.”  
  
“Huh.” Patrick thought about that. He wasn’t one hundred percent on board with the Señora and her predictions, but he had noticed that she was occasionally accurate. “At least we know she’s right about one thing – we always get through it.”  
  
“Yeah, we do,” Richie smiled at him.  
  
Patrick gave him a quick smooch. “It’s because we’re so awesome, that’s why.”  
  
Richie laughed. “We make a good team.”  
  
“Ooh, like super heroes. I could really get into that.”  
  
“I’m not wearing a cape, Pato.”  
  
"But you would look so cute in one."


End file.
